


this love is blood and peace

by jhem211



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Even Lexa, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Multiple, PTSD, Politics, War, Worldbuilding, everyone shows up at some point - Freeform, post 2x16
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-02 11:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhem211/pseuds/jhem211
Summary: Clarke leaves Camp Jaha and finds a home in the snow. She learns, she loves, she lives. And slowly. Very slowly. She heals.





	1. Clarke - February 18, 2150

**Author's Note:**

> ~~The numbers in the chapter headings are how many days post Mt. Weather the events in that chapter take place.~~  
>  I found some actual dates to go off of, so I've changed the chapter headings to reflect that and made a minor change to the timeline in chapter 1.
> 
> I suck at Tumblr, but feel free to hit me up @jhem211 and send me prompts for this universe. I've got 39 chapters plotted already, which is something I've never done before in my entire life. If you like the story, I won't be mad if you ask me when the next update is going to be. Comments are love.

Her body ached, but the bed she lay upon was soft. The furs covering her were warm, and a fire crackled somewhere in the distance. Her throat was dry. 

That was all Clarke could catalog before she opened her eyes.

A cabin. 

Okay. 

If they wanted to kill her, she’d be dead already. Of that, she was certain. She tried to sit up. Her body viciously protested.

She left Camp Jaha months ago when winter was a distant threat. She walked until the threat was imminent. And then kept walking. There was a price on her head, she knew. When she walked into Ice Nation territory, the only gamble was what would get her first - a warrior or winter. 

“You shouldn’t move.”

The voice startled her. It sounded young, but young didn’t mean safe.

“You have to stay where you are.”

Clarke looked over and saw a boy no more than six years old, holding a sword that was perfectly sized for him. His hair was a complicated twist of dark braids and locks that fell halfway to his waist. His eyes were bright and focused. 

With a huff, Clarke laid back down into the yielding softness of the bed. In her current state, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself from a six-year-old, much less whatever waited for her outside the warmth of this… sanctuary? Prison? She wasn’t sure it mattered which.

“I’m supposed to protect you.”

The seriousness and pride in the statement kept Clarke from laughing. “Who are you?” Clarke asked.

“I am Theo.”

“Thank you for protecting me, Theo.”

At that, Theo knelt on one knee, pressed the tip of his sword into the ground, and pressed his fist to his heart. “Wanheda protects us all, and we protect Wanheda.”

Wanheda. Clarke hated that title. It followed her everywhere. In whispers and shouts. With fear and awe. It seemed no matter how far she traveled, she could not escape it.

“Who taught you to say that?”

“My Echo.”

Clarke didn’t know what that meant but assumed it was a person. “And where is your Echo?”

“Hunting. She left me in charge.”

If only she had the strength, Clarke would walk out before whoever Echo was returned. If she had the strength, she’d leave the warmth of this cabin, walk into the cold, and continue walking until the cold had the last word. 

But she was tired. Tired of walking. Tired of being Clarke kom Skaikru. Of being Wanheda. She wanted to rest. Just for a little while. 

She looked over at Theo again. “You’ll protect me?”

Theo’s nod was solemn like this oath was the most important one he had ever given.

“Okay. Thank you, Theo.” Clarke’s eyes slipped closed. Maybe she was safe. Maybe she wasn’t. She’d know if her eyes opened again.

* * *

The next time Clarke woke it was to the low murmur of voices, the smell of dinner, and an angry stomach that hadn’t had a proper meal in longer than was healthy. She tried to sit up again and had a bit more success than last time. 

“You shouldn’t move.”

The voice was decidedly older this time. Instead of looking over, Clarke concentrated on pushing the furs to the side and placing her feet on the ground. It took a long time. She expected hands to halt or help her, but none came. She was grateful for that small mercy even if she was now out of breath and her body was in a riot of pain. She breathed through it as she looked up to see who the voice belonged to. 

The woman was a shadow of someone built for surviving in the north. She was older than Clarke, but only by a few years. Her face didn’t hold the markings she’d seen on Ice Nation warriors, but Clarke knew that didn’t mean she wasn’t just as dangerous.

“You must be My Echo.” 

The small nod and smile in response surprised Clarke. It was her intent, yes, but small things like smiles were as distant to her now as the pieces of the Ark still floating above the earth.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually.”

“Do you want to join us at the table, or do you want to eat here?”

Clarke took that moment to look over at the table and was surprised to find three pairs of eyes looking back at her. Theo waved with the hand that wasn’t shoveling food into his mouth. There was an older woman who looked as though she spent her days braced against whatever the earth might bring her. Next to her was a man of a similar age. He wore layers of robes that resembled the pictures of old earth priests Clarke remembered studying in a history class once.

“I’ll join you.”

Echo nodded but stood with her hands firmly at her side.

Clarke attempted to get up by herself. She was bone tired. Her abdominal muscles, her legs, perhaps even her teeth shook with the effort of standing. When she made it a quarter of the way up, miles still remained to go. She fell back to a seated position with something less than a flop, and far from graceful. 

“Can you help me?”

Echo sat next to Clarke without a word. She placed her arm tightly around Clarke’s waist while Clarke placed her own arm around Echo’s shoulders. When they stood, it was together, with Clarke’s weight balanced evenly between them.

They walked to the table slowly. Theo jumped up and pulled out the chair next to him for Clarke. Sitting down was an exercise in pain and relief. Echo filled Clarke’s bowl with a thick stew, before retaking her own seat across from Clarke. 

Clarke looked around the table. Closer now, she could see the resemblance between the people gathered here. All except Theo whose brown skin was a deeper brown than Wells’ had been. 

“Wanheda, I am Alli, and this is my husband Mosis. We are honored to have you at our table.”

“Clarke, please.” They nodded at her request, and Clarke took her first bite of stew. It was thick with meat and heavy with vegetables. The dark sauce was savory, and the sweetness of the white potato was unexpected. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

As if waiting for her thoughts on the meal before continuing, everyone at the table began eating once more. Everyone except Theo, who had stopped to pull Clarke’s chair out, then immediately started devouring his stew again.

Clarke focused on eating her food and taking brief glimpses of her surroundings between bites. The cabin was larger than it seemed at first glance. There were hallways that probably led to other rooms, but the space where they ate was compact enough that the fire crackling in the far wall kept the temperature comfortable. Against the opposite wall was the bed she slept on, though it was more an oversized couch of furs than a true bed. There was one window in the room, right next to the front door, and Clarke thought she saw snow falling on the other side. 

When the ragged edges of hunger finally dulled, Clarke looked at Echo. “Where am I?”

“This is Ironlak,” Echo said. 

“And where is Ironlak?” Clarke asked.

“Azgeda,” Echo answered.

“The Ice Nation hate my people.” The sudden flash of emotion in Echo’s eyes was too fast for Clarke to deconstruct, but she would take it as confirmation of her statement. Everyone stopped eating again, including Theo. “And your Queen wants me captured. So why am I still alive?” Clarke asked. 

“Because you brought down the mountain,” Mosis answered. His voice was a low rumble, a tree falling in the distance.

Alli reached over to Echo and placed her hand over the younger woman’s. “And you saved our daughter.”

Clarke looked back to Echo. The shadows made sense now. The ghosts of The Mountain could not be escaped. Not even in Azgeda. But Clarke’s sins were only committed to save her people. She didn’t have room to carry the burden of any other lives. “The Commander saved your daughter,” she said.

“The Commander is a coward,” Alli countered. 

Shock rolled through Clarke. No one spoke about The Commander that way and lived. That was how Clarke thought of her now. The Commander. To think of her as anything else was too painful. Lexa’s betrayal still stung like it happened yesterday, instead of months ago. The Commander, however, had done what was necessary for her people. 

Theo’s eyes were wide as he watched them speak. There was no protection from the danger Alli’s words invited to the table. 

“I don’t think it’s safe to speak of her that way,” Clarke said. She didn’t want to speak about her at all. These few words were more than she had done in nearly four months and the sudden eruption of anger she constantly fought to keep at bay made her nauseous. It was best to leave. She had to. Ghosts couldn’t be outrun, she knew, but she could stay a few heartbeats ahead of their grasp. “I’ll go. Wanheda is a curse, and I don’t want your kindness to pay its price.”

The food gave Clarke the bit of strength she needed. She stood from the table slowly, but without help. When the journey to her feet was complete, she looked up to find Echo standing with her.

“You can go if that’s what you want. But you’re safe here. The Commander is disloyal. We are not. Wanheda protects us all, and we protect Wanheda.”

Echo didn’t bend to one knee. She didn’t place her fist over her heart. But her eyes did not waiver from Clarke’s, and the oath felt like cement being poured at their feet. 

Clarke had run out of trust the moment Lexa walked away from her. She stopped deserving protection the second she pulled that lever. The best decision would be to leave. To walk away before Wanheda ruined them all. She’d seen the posters with her picture. She knew the bounty for her so-called power was large.

But Clarke was exhausted. 

It would be nice to stop, just for a little while. 

To rest, if only for a moment. 

She could leave before anyone came to find her. 

Slowly, Clarke sat back down. She would stay. She would regain her strength, then disappear before her enemies appeared at this door. She would not have the blood of these people on her hands too. 

It was a silent oath made to herself. 

It was the final cost she would allow herself to bear.


	2. Echo - November 3, 2149

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, hit that kudos button and took the time to read. 
> 
> If you read chapter 1 when it was posted, I've since discovered an actual timeline with dates, so I've changed the chapter headings and made a minor change to chapter 1 as far as timing is concerned. 
> 
> It looks like updates will be every other Sunday.
> 
> To avoid spoilers, I've placed the trigger warning for this chapter at the end.

Someone from Rock Line gave her a coat. She wasn’t sure if she was cold or hot, but she had a coat and no shoes, and she was free of The Mountain. She thought she would die there. A final end, not the repeated deaths suffered when her blood was siphoned over and over again to give the _maunon_ life. Instead, she was alive and sitting on a fallen tree. She was alive and it felt acutely wrong. Wretchedly stolen. 

Echo was free, but only because she was weak.

_Quiet. They take the strongest._

A lesson learned early. First by Ric who pretended to be strong even when all that was left of him was a cavern of hollow bones. Then by Aasha, who had loved Ric for too long to live without him. Aasha had begged them to take her next, and they did - seven times - until there was nothing left of her to beg.

_Quiet. They take the strongest._

It’s what she told the _Skayon_. 

Not that she’d been pretending weakness while the _maunon_ bled the people she loved dry. Not that she’d wanted to live or that her desire to do so was a sickness, an infection of dishonor gifted by the _maunon_ in exchange for her blood. 

_I’ll come back for you. I promise._

And then he did. Her cage opened and like a painful breathe of air after too long without, she remembered. Not a crash of memory, bright and insistent, but a whisper, nearly vanished. She was _Echo kom Azgeda_. Not all of her, no. But enough. Enough to protect his people when they arrived, and her people too.

_Thank you._

It was a promise. To him, yes. But truly, it was an oath to herself. Her weakness would be left here in this tomb. She would return to Azgeda, rejoin the Royal Guard, and stitch herself back together. 

The Commander, however, would not allow this mercy. When the massive steel door of The Mountain closed behind Echo, her fate was sealed. Her oath, shattered. Her shame, inscribed upon her skin for all to bear witness. 

Echo was alive, but what remained of her was too small. 

Even her borrowed coat threatened to swallow her. If only it would. If only the world would consume her whole. Or the numbness growing within her would move like the raging Gau of Blue Cliff instead of the sodden southern bayous of Glowing Forest. 

The warriors that bothered to glance her way, at _Echo kom Azgeda_ who went into the mountain with people she loved but came out alone, didn’t say the words that rumbled behind their eyes. 

Her allegiance was worthless. She was worthless. 

When the Commander finally walked by, the despair unspooled from Echo with nothing to hold it back. “This was a mistake.” 

The Commander stopped walking. She was surrounded by her personal guard, and they would be right to kill Echo where she sat. To speak to the Commander in such a way was treason, yet instead of a blade, The Commander delivered silence.

“You abandoned our allies and strengthened our enemies,” Echo continued. “It’s a coward’s way.”

The Commander’s jaw flexed - the shadows of its movement outlined by the fires of her retreating army. And still, no blade met Echo’s neck or pierced her chest. The Commander walked away without a word and the numbness consuming Echo crawled slowly forward.

* * *

Five days later, they learned The Mountain had fallen. The messenger arrived bursting with excitement and riding a horse pushed to near exhaustion.

They were finally into Ice Nation Territory. Some of the warriors had begun to split off two days prior, heading to the small villages they called home. Tomorrow, the largest contingent would head west to Arris. It’s where Echo should be going as well, but the capital didn’t want her. It couldn’t. 

Just yesterday, Iva gave her a sword. Iva, her former _Seken_ , who marched to The Mountain to save Echo, but only saved a woman whose hand shook too greatly to do anything with the blade placed in it.

Echo was nearly hardened to the shame. Iva was not. She took the sword back quickly like the blade cascaded with fire and needed to be extinguished. Now, Iva only glanced at Echo accidentally. 

No, Echo couldn’t go to Arris. Even with The Mountain gone. She would go home to Ironlak, deep within the northern mountains of Azgeda and…

And…

She didn’t know.

Home remained eighteen days away, and the only thing under her control was placing one foot in front of the other and walking north until all that remained of the retreating army was her. 

Fourteen days away from home, the whispers began. 

_Clarke kom Skaikru holds great power._

_The Mountain was slain by her hand alone._

The whispers grew as she walked. No village in which she stopped was immune to the growing legend of the girl who toppled The Mountain. It didn’t matter if they were small like Roudsburg where Echo replaced the borrowed boots that had seen too many journeys before her own. Or large like Eonta where she sheltered during an early snowfall that warned of the merciless winter to come.

Echo wanted to ignore them. She tried desperately, but she couldn’t walk fast enough to escape their reach. With every step closer to home, the numbness she craved gave way to the infection of The Mountain. It rotted into a plague deep within her belly. It did not allow her food to stay down after meals or her eyes to stay closed during sleep.

With two days left, Echo stopped at a river already sluggish with winter’s call. In the distance, home reached into the sky. Ironlak was majestic even on a day when clouds obscured its peak. Today the sky was blue and clear and the beauty of a place she didn’t deserve to see again pierced like a dagger thrust between her ribs. A silo of pain ripped out of her chest and nearly forced Echo to her knees. The river raged by as a solitary witness. 

It would be so easy to keep walking forward. To let the water take what was left.

Echo took a step. And then one more. The icy water lapped against her boots. Another step and the water covered her ankles. Just a few more and she would be—

“She commands death.” 

The words made Echo stop. A man and woman walked behind her, laden with the bounty of a long day of fishing. They glanced at her briefly, then continued along their trek, back to whichever of these mountains beckoned them home. 

“Wanheda,” the woman agreed. “It’s the only way a girl abandoned in The Mountain’s shadow could do what no Commander before had.”

Their voices trailed away as quickly as they arrived, but the reverence of their words lingered. Echo turned back to the river, ankle deep in promised oblivion. It would be the simplest thing - to drown her sins here. 

Ironlak was so close. She had walked until she was the only one left. The only one coming home. The only one weak enough to survive. 

No. 

Allowing the river’s mercy would be too easy. 

Easy is not what she deserved.

At that moment, with her home two days away, but as far as it’s ever been and the acid of The Mountain pooling in her stomach, Echo finally understood. 

Death was all the Mountain had left her; it was all she was worthy of serving. 

* * *

**_Next Chapter_**

_The aborted scream wakes Clarke up. Not wanting to wake Theo, Echo has become really good about trapping them in her throat by tightly squeezing her eyes and mouth shut. Clarke places her hand over Echo’s chest and keeps it still. After months of sharing a bed, she knows this is what works. Not words or the bitter root tea Alli brews, but the stillness of Clarke’s hand over Echo’s heart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Echo has suicidal thoughts and an aborted suicide attempt toward the end of the chapter.


	3. Clarke - June 12, 2150

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, hit that kudos button and took the time read. It's truly appreciated.
> 
> I'm sorry for the delay, but this chapter fought me every step of the way. It was actually done two weeks ago, but I've re-written it twice since then. If you're feeling generous, I'd love to know what you think about it and the story as a whole so far.

Echo’s aborted scream woke Clarke up. Not wanting to wake Theo, Echo had become really good at trapping them in her throat by tightly squeezing her eyes and mouth shut. Slowly, Clarke’s hand found its way to Echo’s chest. After months of sharing a bed, she knew this is what worked. Not words or the bitter root tea Alli brewed, but the stillness of Clarke’s hand over Echo’s heart. 

In. And out. In. And out. Echo’s breathing was sharp and erratic. Clarke silently counted a calming rhythm, waiting for the rise and fall of her hand to match her cadence. 

In. And out. In. And out. 

Some nights, it took a while. On the worst of them, Echo shot out of bed before Clarke’s hand reached out. She left the room like her despair was contagious and spreading fast. Clarke followed her once. Over an hour had passed and Echo hadn’t returned. Clarke found her in the living room, at a small alter built into an alcove. Echo was on her knees, bent at the waist, and touching her forehead to the ground in prayer. 

_Wigod ai._

_Wigod ai._

Over and over, the words were whispered with the heat of a fever. 

_Forgive me._

_Forgive me._

Clarke had left quickly, her rush of worry curdling into betrayal. That hadn’t been for her eyes. Clarke hadn’t been given permission to hear the rawness of Echo’s voice, see the outward devotion to atonement. 

In. And out. In. And out. 

On those nights, when Echo came back to bed, they never spoke of it. When Echo stayed, and Clarke’s hand was enough of a prayer, they never spoke of that either. 

Slowly, Echo’s breathing calmed from angry bursts into deep choppy waves. Sometimes they fell back asleep just like that, with Clarke’s hand atop Echo’s chest. It was another thing they didn’t talk about. 

Clarke liked not talking about it. She’d spent so much of her time on the ground convincing people to listen to her, to trust her, to believe her. This silence was a balm to the brutal life that began the moment the dropship crashed to earth. 

Clarke hadn’t known how desperately she’d needed the quiet. 

Echo had given this to her. Alli, Mosis, Theo - they all had. They’d managed to create a sacred space where Clarke could just breathe. After that first day, no one asked about The Mountain anymore. Or Camp Jaha. Or the people Clarke left behind. 

Instead, Mosis taught her how to make sunrise cakes. They cooked them in a heavy pan over the fire until the thick batter turned golden. The day she went on a trek with him and Theo to pull the sweet sauce they drizzled over the cakes from a tree was one Clarke cherished. Theo’s laughter had bounced off the snow. 

He was a mostly happy kid, but sometimes, when he thought no one was paying attention, his sadness flickered in and out like a light. On those days, he liked to sit with Clarke, head pillowed against her shoulder, and watch her draw.

Alli was sewing a coat for Clarke so that she’d have something that was hers. Long and dark, died the color of the sky right before sunrise, it looked to be more cape than coat from a distance. The hood was lined with the fur of the first white fox Clarke managed to kill on her own. It fed them for days, and now it would keep Clarke warm in the winters to come.

And Echo. Echo taught Clarke useful skills like how to hunt with a bow and arrow and how to build a shelter out of snow. She also taught Clarke how to sit quietly in front of a fire and let the Earth have its say. This was how Clarke grew to appreciate the silence and trust that it wasn’t a threat.

Now, with her hand over Echo’s heart, and the warmth of the furs covering them, Clarke wondered if this is what peace felt like. Like Echo’s breathing finally calmed. Like Theo’s smile whenever he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Like staying here would be—

Would be a…

…a mistake. 

Clarke understood that so suddenly, her breath strangled in her throat.

“What’s wrong?”

She’d been staring so intently at the rise and fall of her own hand, she’d missed when Echo’s eyes finally opened. 

“I was just thinking,” Clarke cleared her throat. “… I was thinking I should leave soon.”

“Okay.”

Clarke expected more than that. She didn’t quite know what to say now that it was less. Echo turned to face her, forcing Clarke’s hand to slide to the bed, 

“Where are we going?”

“What?”

“Theo has always wanted to visit Glowing Forrest,” Echo offered.

Oh.

This was her fault. Clarke had stayed too long. The worst of winter passed by weeks ago. Clarke’s health, buoyed by hearty meals and no expectations, returned to her before that. She should be long gone. 

“You’re not coming with me. And Theo’s definitely not coming with me.” 

“How will you stop us?”

Echo was… amused?

Clarke was not. Not even a little. “It’s not safe.”

“Nowhere is safe.” Echo’s amusement left as quickly as it arrived. “You defeated our greatest collective enemy. The only thing left for us to fight is each other. That’s our way. The safest place for you is here, at the top of Ironlak, where we can see the enemy coming. But if you need to go, we’ll go.”

It was the lengthiest group of words Clarke had heard from Echo since she woke up on a couch with Theo staring at her. Echo was serious. But Clarke was serious too. She couldn’t do this. Not again. She couldn’t be responsible for Echo. For Theo. Mosis. Alli. 

“There’s no we,” Clarke whispered fiercely. If Theo was awake, she didn’t want him to hear this. His bed was tucked against the wall on the other side of the room. “I’m not your responsibility.”

Echo turned away until her back was on the bed again and her eyes faced the ceiling. That was it, then. Clarke would leave in the morning. It would be better that way. Hopefully, Alli had finished the coat. Perhaps she could find a horse when she made it down mountain. She might have to trade—

“Wanheda is my responsibility.” 

“Don’t call me that.” No one had said that name since her first week here. Hearing it twisted Clarke’s lungs. 

“Why not?” Echo looked over again.

“Wanheda is a poison.” 

“Wanheda is a weapon,” Echo said. “Clarke kom Skaikru is its wielder. If you don’t learn to master it, someone else will. ”

“Is that what you want? To master me?” None of this should surprise her. This is what the ground did, after all. Even the air had been weaponized. But Clarke has had enough of her own destruction. She’s had enough of blood and war. Of betrayal and heartache. Of thinking, she’s reached the limit of the lengths she’s willing to go to, then being forced to take another step. She just needed to be Clarke Griffin again - daughter of a doctor and an engineer. Clarke Griffin - best friend of Wells Jaha. 

“I wanted to serve you,” Echo answered. “I should have died in The mountain. When I didn’t… I still wanted to. Serving Wanheda seemed like the best way.”

So plainly spoken, the words fell upon Clarke like an avalanche.

“I came home alone, ”Echo continued, “and Theo smiled at me anyway. I came home alone and realized he is why I survived. He is the reason to keep surviving. Protecting Wanheda until Clarke is finished hiding is how I do that.”

“No,” Clarke swallowed hard. The rush of tears caught her off-guard, but she wouldn’t allow them to fall. She wasn’t hiding. She _wasn’t._ “Knowing Wanheda is how you lose everything.” Clarke could draw the proof in the ashes trailing behind her. “It will be better for him, for all of you, if I leave.” 

“Clarke,” Echo whispered. “This peace won’t last. When it breaks, war will find us no matter where we go. When it does, I want to be at Wanheda’s side… I need my people to be her people. That’s how I protect Theo. That’s how we survive.”

Clarke has always needed to plead with her people to let her save them, let her serve them, trust that she knew what was best. They’ve always resisted - resisted until their backs were against a wall until Clarke had to move another line further away. This willingness for Clarke’s help felt deeply uncomfortable. To be chosen so explicitly tugged at her. The danger was bright and flashing.

But Clarke’s never been able to say no to people in need, whether they wanted her help or not. No one she loved had ever been able to say no either. Her dad died because he refused to sit by and watch their lives run out of air. Wells died because he refused to let Clarke face the ground alone even after her love for him soured into something painful. Finn died because he thought she was lost and he lost himself trying to find her. Maybe this was Clarke’s legacy. How the ground would finally reclaim what it was owed. 

Peace was a fragile commodity; Echo was right about that. The shards of this broken world would always find Clarke no matter where she went.

“How do you master a weapon you hate?” Clarke asked.

“Stop being afraid to use it.”

“How do I do that?”

“Enjoy this peace,” Echo said. “But prepare for what comes after.”

Clarke could do that. 

Clarke _would_ do that.

And then maybe it would all be over.

* * *

_**Next Chapter** _

_Ric and Aasha fell in love first. It happened at the beginning of their ninth summer when both of them were too young to know what to do with it. Echo’s love came later._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have picked up on a certain piece of dialogue that's from the show. It wasn't intentional, but once I wrote it, I decided to just lean into it. Hopefully, it works with the dynamic I'm trying to craft between Clarke and Echo.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments are love.


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